


cey's bf/pico requests

by kebab_skewer



Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game), Pico's School (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Make Up, Touch-Starved, Touching, bitch they fried eggs with an icecube instead of cooking oil, they kiss but like pico looks like a monstrosity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29587176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kebab_skewer/pseuds/kebab_skewer
Summary: please give me some prompts you've always been wanting to see with this pairing! ive been losing inspiration but my need to write is HUGE.1 - cuddling (snowed in)2 - vulnerability (make up)???
Relationships: Boyfriend (Friday Night Funkin')/Pico (Pico's School)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you want a fic on how i write i have a bf/pico fic i published onto here in my account!!

PLEASE GIVE ME REQUESTS :'DDD can be angst, fluff, whump, and everything in between! (excluding porn!)


	2. the cracks in your ceiling as deep as the feeling (cuddling)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hajshsusj first propmt is cuddles! tho i kinda went overboard with this one...oops
> 
> GIMME MORE REQUESTS IF U HAVE ANY PLEASE

"Shit,"

Pico hisses, almost pressing his face into the window as he watched the snow pile up higher and higher—was that almost 18 inches? A snow storm at a time like this...

"I didn't expect to stay around here for this long just to deliver your stupid package you accidentally sent to my address. I never order online, thought someone was trying to kill me again so I pulled my gun on the poor kid."

Boyfriend wails. "I already apologized for that. And you what?"

"I guess.. it's a Wednesday; I usually clean out all my guns today." the older frowns, turning the other cheek from the display and approaching Boyfriend near the kitchen. "Man, how long do you think 'til it'll let up?"

"Dunno. Wanna eat? Pretty sure I still have something in here to cook or heat up."

The ginger snorts, peeking over Boyfriend's shoulder as he opened the fridge. "Since when have you ever cooked?"

Boyfriend smirks cockily and shuts the fridge door with his socked foot, holding the items in his arms and setting them onto the counter.

"BAM!" He cheers, presenting a big bowl of cold rice. "I'll be making fried rice—A.K.A the saviour of all incompetent adults!"

Pico snorts, stealing two eggs from the fridge and letting them roll on the counter, before eventually setting them still. "Glad you admit it, at least."

"I wasn't! I meant you were incompetent!"

The redhead laughs, picking a pan and putting it on the stove. "Sure, sure. Hey where's your cookin' oil?"

Boyfriend blinks. Raking his eyes over the empty container Pico held in his hand before throwing it into the waste bin. He creaks open all of his cupboards and retrieves nothing.

"Huh," he says. "Guess I run out."

"Wait—I've got an idea,"

Pico opens the fridge once more and fishes out some icecubes, cracking the case a bit by slamming it into his knee to pop out two, and places them on the pan and starts the fire.

"What're you doing!?"

He shrugs. "Eh. Only thing I can think of."

Boyfriend places his chin in his hand thoughtfully, and imitates the other's lazy shrug. "I guess? Yeah, sure. Now we just have to wait for it to melt a bit?"

Pico hums approvingly. Decides that the ice has melted quite enough and breaks an egg over the heated pan and attempts to pick out the little shell that fell in with a wooden spoon, before eventually giving up and showers it in salt.

Boyfriend was stunned. Suddenly hit with the fact that Pico still remembers how he liked his eggs.

It was only a small thing but—

"Hey! I made your eggs, make mine!"

The younger huffed but grabbed a small bowl and cracked the egg open and started to whisk it anyways. "I didn't tell you to, though!"

Pico slides the egg onto a plate. "What's done is done."

Boyfriend fries it begrudgingly, settling it onto a plate and dragging Pico to the couch. "A show I liked was airing today, if I remember correctly. Wanna watch it? We could turn something else on."

"Wait, wait. Let me turn the lights off—" Pico reached over him and switches off the light. "And yeah, I've got nothing in mind anyways."

The younger flicks through channels, before finally finding what he wanted and chucking the remote onto the side of the couch.

"Man, what the fuck is this?" Pico grumbles, pulling his legs up hugging them close. Curling into himself for warmth.

"Last season used to be so much better! This doesn't make any sense? None of this is following the original fucking story?" Boyfriend whines. Chomping down on his food angrily, only stopping when he takes note of Pico's slight shivering. "You cold? Let me just get a few blankets. I still have that fluffy one that you liked back when we dated—"

Pico stares up at him.

Boyfriend releases a tiny scream underneath his breath and waddles his way into his bedroom. Making sure to lock the door. Leaving the ginger alone to burn as red as his hair.

The boy moves almost mechanically in the room, dragging a box underneath his bed and fishing out the soft periwinkle blanket adorned with fuzzy stars. Because Pico was going to bring him outside and shoot him in the snow and the only reason he brought him outside was because he was too nice to ruin Boyfriend's new carpet.

Boyfriend sits on his ass with his head in his hands and cries to the heavens the older wouldn't say anything about it. They were fucking _exes_ of course it was going to be weird discussing that!

He (dreadfully) arrives in the living room. Pico is slightly red in the face with a look between anger and mild distress, but quickly composes himself when he spots the other just standing there.

Pico coughs. "Thanks,"

He hands him the blanket, almost immediately missing the texture and warmth it offered. But says nothing and returns to the couch—perhaps a few centimeters between him and Pico.

Boyfriend wants to laugh and cry at the same time with relief. He didn't mention it! Maybe for once, things were starting to look his way—

"I can tell the cold's seepin' in your bones, y'know. C'mere."

Pico, with the blanket over his head and small with the blanket wrapped around him by his arms hugging it and his legs close, lifts open the fort with an arm; inviting him in.

Boyfriend ran hotter, and was honestly not all that cold. But joins anyways, pressing into his side and taking the part the older offered and curling it into himself. Trying to convince himself the basically permanent red that reached from Pico's cheeks to the tip of his ears was just the cold.

Near half an hour of watching the series when Pico decides to break the ice.

"I don't mind—talking about that, I mean. It's cool. So don't be such a worrywart over it." Pico grumbles, eyes trained onto the TV.

_"Holy fucking shit, Pico."_

Boyfriend honestly had tears in his eyes at this point, bursting out laughter after laughter all the while taking in the ever growing flush of embarassmen growing on the gunman's face. "That's so—oh my god. Fuck. I can't believe you—holy SHIT!"

Pico looks at him with a hint of worry. "Is this it? Have you finally gone mental?"

The younger wipes the tears awa with the back of his hand, before smiling at him tiredly—yet sweetly all the same. Taking one of Pico's hands and brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of his hand.

"We could live here, y'know?"

Pico opens his mouth to speak, before shutting it back shut and turning his head back onto the television.

He knows they could, though.

Boyfriend is tired, so tired of trying not to kiss the living daylights out of Pico when he does that big smile that shows the teeth gap he absolutely adored. Or when Pico does..anything, really.

And he knows Pico is too.

Breaking up just over of a fight seemed so idiotic to the both of them now.

"I know." Pico finally answers.

"We'd have loads of blankets like this one. We'd get matching keys with cute cartoon covers, maybe even engrave our names into them. We can use that storage room I rarely use for your guns—I'm glad you aren't into the ones that are too big. We'd go grocery shopping every Thursday. Buy more plates."

The older returns the smile. "Get matching mugs too—the ones they make for straight people. Buy a bigger bed. Share clothes with eachother. Get mad at eachother for taking too long in the bathroom. Learn how to actually cook together."

"I—" Boyfriend was suddenly cut off by Pico quickly turning his head to him once again. Eyes uncertain, hopeful.

"You love me, don't you?"

It was meant to be assertive, a fact. Like Pico was reading something off a textbook. It came out a question, begging for confirmation.

"Yes," Boyfriend answers smoothly. Mouth working quicker than his mind to feel even an ounce of shame. "I love you."

The TV is white noise when Pico swallows back air.

"I love you, too." He says, squeezing his hand in his and slipping his fingers between the gaps of Boyfriend's own.

They turn back to the show, legs over the other's on the table, cuddling into eachother. Watching the television though it feels almost as if a blur compared to the way their skin flared up with heat when they pressed up into eachother.

The snow let up, as did the few centimeters separating the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its a school night its 2:15am and im writing gay exes.
> 
> give me more


	3. over lining (vulnerable)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha sorry for dissapearing for so long i have exams next week and i was at my grands place and taking care of personal shit. take this now.

"Pico! Check out what I've got," Boyfriend calls, waltzing into Pico's apartment like he owned it. Toeing off his shoes and kicking them by the doorstep, plastic bag hanging from his wrist and dangling it in front of him.

The ginger was used to it by now, but still silently rolled his eyes and followed Boyfriend to his own room. "Mess in there, by the way. What've you got this time?"

Boyfriend skillfully hops over stray guns from where Pico was supposed to clean them today, and sits them both onto the older's bed.

He sets the baggie aside and pulls the out his surprise..s?

"What? What the fuck is that?"

The younger beams. "Make up! Girlfriend said she accidentally ordered too many and I decided to take it off her hands. I mean—look at this!" He presents an eyelash curler excitedly. "Like seriously, what the hell do you do with this?"

"Finger guillotine." Pico answers honestly. "What're you even gonna do with these? You don't even wear make up."

"Doesn't mean I can't _try._ Plus, my amazing and extremely kind boyfriend is going to help me."

"Your so called 'amazing and extremely kind' boyfriend needs to go and clean out his guns, I heard. It's a Wednesday."

"I'll help him clean them! As long as he lets me bathe him in make up." Boyfriend offers, leaning into the other challengingly.

Pico thinks this over with a finger to his lip, before sighing. "...Fine. You do at least know what you're doing, right?"

The younger smiles. "Nope!"

He lets him, anyways.

"I'm pretty sure that's for the eyes. Saw Nene brushing some onto her eyes with a really small brush." Pico points out when Boyfriend fishes for the eyeshadow palette and a big brush—he quickly switches the brush for a smaller one.

"Which one you want?"

Boyfriend flips it open, dusty hardened multitude of colors at their expense. They glittered slightly when the ginger cocked his head to the side closer to squint at them.

Pico waves a hand and flutters his eyes shut—copying the expression a vague memory of Nene had done. "No idea; surprise me?"

Boyfriend does, but accidentally pricking his eyelid with the brush.

"Ow! That feels..weird!? I've never gotten stabbed in the eye before, I think, could've taken that away so easily."

Boyfriend huffs out a laugh, brush retreating before rubbing the pad onto Pico's eyelids once again—carefully, this time. Spreading the colorful powder with slightly trembling fingers. "Sorry," he says. He doesn't sound sorry at all.

When Pico felt the pad stop, he immediately opened his eyes once more. "Finished?"

Boyfriend shakes his head no, and lightly pokes his forehead; Pico gets the message and warily shuts them closed. "Yeah, on the eyeshadow. I wanna finish the whole thing before I show you it."

The ginger didn't know if he could honestly take much more, Boyfriend's fingers grazing his skin made goosebumps rise and muscles tighten. Light touches that branded his skin with fire, a phantom touch that stays even when his skin broke connection with the other's. 

As his boyfriend applied blush onto his cheeks with a brush that pricks his skin just the slightest bit, Pico realizes this might be the most someone had touched him— _ever._

Pico had never been fond of touchiness, even before the shooting, and especially now after that. Sudden taps on his shoulder and grabs of his wrist had him knocking that person down at gun point. Even planned brushes of another's skin had him spasming a bit. He's gotten better now, even initiating physical touching sometimes.

This feels different though. Boyfriend cradling his face with a hand and rubbing away mascara that had dribbled onto his cheek, his knee brushing against his. Hot breath muttering small curses of ruined powder.

Boyfriend's touch doesn't burn anymore, it's only warm now. He's gotten used to it.

It feels weird, like Pico was experiencing something all over again. It feels completely new as well as something that was far and vague suddenly becoming clearer. He can't place a finger on it.

But what he does know was that although it felt strange, it was nice. Sort of.

"—And then I'll even give you lipbalm—HOLY SHIT! Dude, what? You okay?"

Pico blinks, eyes readjusting. "What?"

Boyfriend holds his face again, thumbs brushing his cheeks. And Pico realizes he can so easily restrain him, place his Uzi or his pistol near his foot to his temple, and shoot—whatever his instincts screamed at him to do. _Kill him before he can hurt you!_

Pico waits for it, the spike of unease within his stomach telling him to go for the kill. It doesn't come.

For once, his guard was down. It should freak him out, but it doesn't.

The younger's dark worried eyes stare into Pico's teary pair, and offers a wobbly smile. "Hey, can I kiss you?"

It was a bit sudden, although Boyfriend always asked. His expression understanding and soft—not demanding for an answer to his burst of emotions. And though Pico hadn't said a word about it, Boyfriend already seemed to understand.

It's scary, how easily Boyfriend could read him. What's even scarier was how sure Pico was that he'd never use it against him.

Trusting people other than himself felt foreign. Dangerous.

But there were always exceptions.

"Yes," Pico gave a quick nod. "That's fine."

Kissing Boyfriend felt right, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO HE WAY MORE BUT EHHHHHHHH
> 
> the next one is first meetings! i wonder whatll happen ;D


End file.
